


Resistance is Not Futile

by ElienRey



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23114890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElienRey/pseuds/ElienRey
Summary: Hugh lives. Elnor and Hugh make it to Nepenthe.Pure wish fulfillment.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	Resistance is Not Futile

“No, you are not dying.” 

He heard the words distantly, muffled as if in a fog, hands on his neck followed by intense pain. It startled him awake with the immediacy of a slap to the face. Elnor came into view above him, eyes wide and panicked. “Can you stand?” 

It took Hugh a moment to realize Elnor was speaking at all, the pain in his neck accompanied by a steady, dull roar in his ears. By the time his brain had processed the words, Elnor was lifting him away from the cold floor, a sickening lurch of motion. “I need you to guide me,” Elnor, very far away. “Please. I need your help.” Another shot of adrenaline, his systems both organic and machine forcing his heart to keep pumping. 

“Left,” he croaked when they came to a junction, and then again and again, the map of the cube laid out in his mind’s eye, clearer than the reality of the cold darkness around him. Twice he was set down, told to hold the bandage tight to his neck while the sounds of battle echoed down the corridor. It felt like a dream, a nightmare, except the pain was far too great for this to be anything but real.

Finally, he was set down on his feet, Elnor holding him upright while he accessed the controls. His fingers found the pathways easily, tracing out the same coordinates they had mere hours before. A warning blared in the back of his mind, but his panic was building, drowning out any sense as the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

“How long?” Elnor was standing behind him, holding him upright with one arm across his chest, the other hovering near his sword. He should’ve taken a blaster from one of the Romulans he’d killed, thought Hugh. They’d stand a better chance. Hugh looked up at the portal forming, knowing with sudden clarity what needed to be done.

“Get me a disruptor,” he croaked, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through his neck. Elnor didn’t question him, propping Hugh on the floor against the console, the portal wide open behind him. He closed his eyes as he heard Elnor’s blade working. In his mind, the Romulan was moving too fast for his enemy to see, let alone target, and he smiled in a sick sort of satisfaction at the mental image of righteous destruction.

It wasn’t long before Elnor returned, clothing and face spattered with fresh, green blood. He was holding a disruptor like an alien thing in one hand, sword in the other.

“We need to destroy the targeting computer.” Hugh gestured above him to the console, hand slow and heavy with the effects of blood loss. What regenerative powers he had left were struggling to stem the tide, blood still flowing freely under the rag.

“I understand. You will go through, I will destroy it when you are safe.”  
“No,” Hugh tried to sound firm, but his voice came out a strained whisper instead. “I’m not leaving you here to be disintegrated, or interrogated, or - no.”

“You are my charge,” Elnor protested. Hugh shook his head, frustrated. They had no time to argue about who got to be the martyr.

“We both go through,” he said, resolved. “Shoot it once we’re on the other side.”

“Will that work?” Elnor shot a dubious look at the blaster.

“Definitely. Maybe,” They heard renewed shouts from down the corridor, the massacred squad found and identified. “No time.” Hugh held his arms out for Elnor to lift him up, the two staggering toward the safety of the portal. They passed through. 

With no one to turn it off, the portal remained open, a steady square of bright light. Shadows passed on the other side, and Elnor lifted the disruptor to fire blindly into the portal. They couldn’t see what happened on the Borg cube, but after several shots the portal flickered and died. They stood watching, waiting, but it didn’t open again.

“We did it,” said Elnor, stunned. Hugh looked up at him, the bright sunlight glinting off the Romulan’s black hair. It was warm, birds were calling in the nearby trees, and they were surrounded by more green than Hugh had seen in years.

“We did it,” Hugh agreed, his knees giving out as his brain told his body it was safe now, coming down hard from the adrenaline surge which had kept him alive. He felt strong hands guiding him to soft grass, blinking open his eyes to see clouds scudding by overhead.

“You are not going to die,” Elnor reminded him, hands firm at his neck. The pain was a long ways away now.

“I think that might be a cause too lost, even for you,” he murmured, although he wasn’t sure if he’d said the words aloud or not. The sky faded from blue, to grey, to black.

He awoke with hands at his neck, choking, holding him down. He tried to shove them off, pure instinct and terror, and they retreated instantly. They were replaced by larger, stronger hands on his shoulders, reassuring rather than restraining. He became aware of a voice speaking, low and steady, resolving into familiar, lightly accented tones.

“You’re safe, Hugh. You’re on Nepenthe. No one is going to hurt you, you’re safe.” It was a litany he’d learned well between the endless repetitions to himself and the other xBs.

Except they hadn’t been safe, none of them were safe. 

Hugh opened his eyes, greeted with wooden beams over his head and a warm, kind face. Her dark eyes creased in a smile.

“Deanna Troi,” he said, voice still a rasp. He’d only met her twice, but he’d never forget the crew of the Enterprise.

“Hugh,” she said, her smile deepening. The hands holding him down released him, and he tilted his head back to see Elnor’s upside down face, hovering over the end of the couch.

“We escaped,” Hugh rasped, stating the obvious but not quite believing it was true.

“You gave us quite a scare, Hugh. Fortunately for you, we have plenty of medical supplies.” She held up the dermal regenerator she’d been using on his neck. “I fixed most of the external damage, but it’s up to your own systems to repair the rest.”

“Thank you.” He touched his neck with a cautious hand, the wound still tender but no longer bleeding. “Is-is Picard here?” Had he entered the same coordinates as Picard? Why had he been so foolish? They might’ve led the Tal Shiar straight to Soji, making all their efforts for nothing.

“He and Will are finishing up the pizza. They were just starting the ingredients when Elnor ran in, covered in blood, green and red, with you in his arms. Jean-Luc wouldn’t leave your side until we were sure you’d make it. I finally managed to convince him he was more use making dinner than hovering in the corner looking guilty.”

“I thought - I thought I was going to die.” Hugh subsided into the comfort of the couch cushions, exhaustion fogging his thoughts.

“It was a near thing, but you’re going to be fine now, thanks to our young friend here.” She nodded to Elnor who had come around the couch and was kneeling next to Troi at Hugh’s side.

“Thank you,” said Hugh, feeling nothing but hollow, “for saving me.”

“It is my charge,” Elnor echoed his words of before, smooth features set in a determined frown.

“You’re bound to Picard, not me,” Hugh pointed out.

“I am bound to whomever I please.” Elnor’s jaw tightened with youthful stubbornness. Hugh was too tired to argue, so he didn’t, closing his eyes to end the discussion.

He heard Troi’s low voice, “We should let him rest, Elnor. The pizza should be ready by now. Would you go help Kestra set the table?” A low murmur that was probably Elnor’s reply, swift, sure footsteps heading away. The door creaking open and shut. He thought he was alone until the couch cushion next to him dipped down.

“Hugh,” said Troi, “I know you’re awake.” He opened his organic eye.

“I would like to not be, please.”

“Understandable. But I don’t think you’re going to allow yourself.” Her voice was gentle, implacable. He shut his eye, wishing for the distance the pain had granted him. The dull ache in his neck wasn’t enough to chase away the pain in his chest, the memory of the xBs falling in a row, their anguish and pain in their last moments invisible to anyone but him.

“She killed them,” he heard himself speaking, almost against his will. “I wouldn’t tell her where Picard and Soji had gone - so she just killed them.”

“Killed who?” Troi asked, a low, comforting murmur. He opened his eyes, not wanting to be greeted with their sightless gaze behind his closed lids.

“The other xBs - ex-Borg,” he clarified at her questioning look.

“All of them?”

“No, not in front of me. I don’t know what will happen to the others. I don't think they’d kill the Romulan crew, but the rest - I have no idea.” And here he was, a thousand light years away, useless.

“Is there anything you could’ve done for them?”

“I could’ve not run away like a coward,” he snapped, voice incapable of raising beyond a rasp.

“You would’ve died, Hugh,” Troi pointed out, ruthless in her honesty. “You’d be no use to them dead. It hurts to realize there’s nothing you can do to save the people you care about, but sometimes you just can’t.”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse?” He looked at her then, for the first time really looked. She was older than he remembered, of course, but there was something else changed about her; she was harder, more worn.

“Temporarily.” She broke the intensity with a smile. “I know it’s hard to hear right now, but what happened wasn’t your fault, Hugh. You survived to fight another day.”

“Mom! We wanna eat!” Clattering footsteps interrupted them, and a girl appeared in the doorway. “Oh. I’m sorry, mom. Uh, hi.” The child raised a tentative hand, and Hugh nodded a greeting, trying to set his feelings aside. If this was Troi’s child, there was no telling what she could pick up off of him. It was bad enough he was still covered in his own blood, and, he realized as he looked down at his ruined clothes, spattered Romulan blood transferred from when Elnor had carried him.

“Tell them to start eating without me, Kestra.” Troi waved away Hugh’s reflexive protest. He didn’t want to rob her of a family meal. “I’ll join you lot in a bit. I suspect Hugh would like to get cleaned up for dinner.” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, even as Kestra took this as her cue to leave, sprinting out the door to rejoin the others at the dinner table. “If you really want to rest, I’ll let you,” Troi continued, taking his hand. “But I don’t think you do.”

“No. I would appreciate a change of clothes.” He felt a rueful smile tug on his lips. It had taken a long time to learn to show emotion as other humanoids would - either his face had shown too little or too much of what he was feeling - but by now it was second nature to mask or reveal his reactions as expected.

She nodded, using her grip on his hand to help him upright. There was dizziness, but he waited it out with pained determination, focusing on the steadying touch of Troi’s hand in his, her arm across his shoulders. When it passed, she led him across the house, arm looped companionably through his. They stopped at the replicator, left untouched during the meal preparation.

“Something comfortable, I think,” she said, eyeing his stiff tunic and trousers. He rarely wore anything else, finding the uniformity a comfort not only to himself but the xBs he was trying to help. 

She replicated a simple, soft shirt and pants, suitable for sleeping in, or perhaps an informal dinner among friends. He frowned down at them, but reluctantly acquiesced to the change in style.

“Now, get dressed. You’re in for a treat. It’s homemade pizza tonight,” she said, pointing him in the direction of the bathroom.

As the door shut behind him and quiet finally descended, he took a moment to assess the damage in the mirror. 

He found himself recoiling from his reflection. He was deathly pale, almost as pale as he’d been as a Borg, dark shadows under his organic eye. Blood drenched the collar and front of his tunic, and when he pulled it off, he had to scrub the accumulated dried blood from his chest with a hand towel. He rinsed it out as best he could, leaving it to dry in the sink. 

He carefully folded his ruined clothes, taking one last look at himself in the mirror.

Hugh had never really minded the way he looked, even when he’d understood how monstrous he appeared to organics. It was just flesh and blood and machine; it wasn’t really him. He’d tried to give himself as human an appearance as he could because he’d come to understand how much stock people placed in a normal, affable face. 

He’d needed all the charm he could manage over the last thirty years as one of the only spokespeople for the most hated race in the galaxy. 

He smoothed his hair back out of habit, judging himself presentable enough. Troi had done well guessing his measurements, the clothes a perfect, comfortable fit.

When he came back out again, Troi was waiting for him. Not right outside the door, but she was standing in the kitchen, gazing out the window. The sun was setting, beautiful pink and orange bands streaking the sky. Hugh could hear the others in the dining room, speaking in low murmurs.

“Do you have a disposal unit?” he asked. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t think how else to break the silence. Troi seemed very far away.

“Oh, Hugh!” She spun around, gripping the edge of the sink in surprise. He smiled, sheepish, holding up his blood stained clothes. He didn’t want to wear them again. “Yes, of course.”

She led him in silence to the disposal unit, and then she led him into the dining room.

The conversation came to a dead stop when they arrived at the table, Picard almost shooting to his feet. Soji wouldn’t meet his eyes, head turned down toward barely touched food. Kestra, pressed close to her side, stared at him with open curiosity. Elnor had also leapt to his feet, hands outstretched as if afraid Hugh would collapse right there. Riker was the only one behaving at all normal, rising at a sedate pace and coming around the table to shake his hand.

“It's good to see you again, Hugh, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”

“Likewise,” he nodded, and let Riker usher him to a chair. The conversation slowly resumed around him, Riker asking Kestra about the adventures she had had that day, Troi trying to engage Soji.

Picard next to him and Elnor across from him tried to speak at the same time, “Hugh, I’m sorry,” overlapping “I thought you were sleeping. Is everyone lying again?” The two exchanged disgruntled glances.

“Hugh,” said Picard, pointedly establishing his precedence. “I’m sorry we’ve - I’ve brought this mess upon you.”

“I’m pretty sure the mess was already there,” he said, glancing down the table at Soji. He didn’t blame her for any of this, but it was clear she was at the center of it.

“She’s Data’s daughter,” said Picard, Hugh jerking around to look at him as the words registered.

“Data? But-” he stifled the protest ‘but Data’s dead’. “How is that possible?”

“A Federation cyberneticist discovered how to clone a positronic matrix.”

“Clone?” His eyebrow shot up. This sounded like science fiction.

“He created two androids that we know of, Soji and her sister, Dahj. I couldn’t save Dahj, she was killed by Romulan assassins on Earth, but for Soji - there’s still a chance.” ‘Thanks to you’ went unsaid, but understood. 

“That’s horrible.” He looked down the table, Soji’s eyes darting away from him. He remembered the state of her quarters, the childhood memorabilia scattered, the picture of smiling twins ripped in half. “How is she taking it?” Another stupid question, who could possibly have their entire identity torn asunder and be fine? He certainly hadn’t.

“Hard.” Picard leaned forward, a hand on Hugh's shoulder, voice low. “She’s having a hard time trusting after what Narek did to her, not to mention the knowledge that her entire life was a lie. Hugh, you know her better than I do. Could you talk to her?”

“Of course, I’ll try.” Try being the keyword there. Soji didn’t even want to look at him, let alone talk. Picard gave his shoulder a grateful squeeze.

The pizza was excellent, better than any replicated food he’d ever had, the tomatoes bursting and bright on his tongue. The conversation washed over him, Riker, Picard, and Troi reminiscing about their days on the Enterprise, Kestra and Elnor hanging on their every word, especially when the three began a competition to see who could tell the most embarrassing story about the other. 

Hugh enjoyed himself, although he didn’t have much to contribute, having known the Enterprise crew for such a short time. Still, he enjoyed being in gatherings, crowds, especially those who didn’t mind what he was. It had been a long time since Hugh had sat with organic beings and not felt like an outsider. Even with the researchers on the Artifact, there was always a distance. 

He’d overheard a scientist compare him to an overprotective parent once - someone who needed to be wooed along with the child. He was protective of the xBs, wary of exploitation, and that wariness meant the researchers had been off limits for friendships. Soji, Soji had seemed to understand the most, of all of them, sympathetic with their plight. But why had she been sent there? How had she known about the Romulan scout ship?

He found himself watching her just as much as she watched him throughout the dinner, both avoiding direct eye contact. Kestra and Soji spoke together for most of the dinner when Kestra wasn’t delighting in embarrassing stories about her parents. It was a while before Hugh realized they weren’t speaking standard, exchanging obscure phrases in a language he’d never heard before.

As night began to fall in earnest, the Troi-Rikers rose by some sort of unspoken agreement, Kestra leading Soji and Elnor in cleaning up the dishes, Riker pulling out a bottle of Saurian brandy for Troi and Picard. Hugh was torn - should he go with the children or stay with the elders? He wasn’t a child, but he wasn’t one of Picard’s peers either. Troi, sensing his discomfort, called Kestra back.

“Kestra, wait a moment, will you?”

“Yes, mom?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet, pile of dishes precarious in her arms. 

“Would you get some blankets from the closet and make up the sofa, dear? I think Hugh has had enough of us for one night.” She smiled at him, as if sharing an inside joke.

“I am a little tired,” he agreed, grateful, for once, to have the choice taken from him.

He took his leave from the elders, exchanging pleasantries by rote, and followed the youngsters into the living room. Elnor dropped back to walk beside him, a silent, protective presence.

Kestra made up the couch with fresh sheets while Soji and Elnor were directed toward the kitchen’s dishwasher. He heard them clanking silently, not speaking, an awkwardness descending without Kestra’s bright presence. For her part, she was shooting him furtive glances as she tucked in the corners of the sheets around the couch cushions, uncharacteristically silent. He sat down in an armchair with a sigh.

“You can ask, it’s okay.” Kestra’s curiosity was harmless, positive even. He’d rather be asked than people just assume.

“Were you really a Borg?” she burst out, sitting on the sheets she'd just made neat, no sign of fear on her face.

“I was,” he said with a smile.

“Do you remember it? Like, what it was like?”

“I remember,” he nodded, “in fact, I even remember things that didn’t happen to me at all.”

“‘Cause of the hive mind?”

“Exactly. What happened to one of us, happened to all of us.”

“Did you like being Borg?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest. Hugh felt his face go slack with surprise, sitting back, clutching the arms of his chair in a white knuckled grip.

“I’ve never been asked that before,” he finally managed, voice back to a rasp. People had assumed, if they bothered to think of it at all, that of course a drone would be happier as an individual. Alone, isolated, but free. Happier, he thought, was not the right word.

“I’m sorry,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I guess it’s a stupid question.”

“It’s not,” he said, gesturing her back to the couch. She obeyed, wary and on the edge of the cushions. “Like is the wrong word. I was content, without conflict. Being separated from the collective was the worst, and best, thing that ever happened to me.”

“Worst and best?”

“Worst because I lost a - a family, and the certainty that the world worked a certain way. Worst because I realized I’d murdered thousands, millions, out of those beliefs.”

“Wow,” she said, quiet and still for the first time that night. He shouldn’t be sharing this with her; she was a child; he was probably frightening her. But no one had asked him these things, no one not a fellow xB had bothered. “And the best?” she asked, unphased, serious beyond her years.

“Best because I had the chance to stop hurting people, to protect those I care about.” Much good he’d done. The xBs were still firmly under someone else’s thumb, killed on a whim. At least Soji was safe, for now. 

Both of them jumped at the sound of a cleared throat from the kitchen doorway. Hugh saw Elnor and Sjoi standing on the threshold of the living room, finished with the dishes. He wondered how long they had been standing there, listening.

“Uh, Kestra, I think we should let Hugh get some rest.” This was the first time she’d acknowledge his existence since he’d arrived, and he took the opportunity to send her a grateful smile.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” The girl got off the couch, hovering for a second before saying, “Thanks for answering my questions,” and darting over to Soji, pulling her away to her room for the night.

“You’re welcome,” he said to her retreating back, a real smile creasing his features for the first time since Picard’s unexpected appearance. Elnor came around the couch to his armchair, holding out a hand to help him up.

“I’m not an invalid, Elnor,” he protested, even as he allowed Elnor to pull him to his feet.

“You almost died a few hours ago,” Elnor pointed out, honest to a fault. “You still look awful.”

“Thanks,” Hugh huffed, letting Elnor lead him, completely unnecessarily, over to the couch a few steps away.

“You are welcome?” said Elnor, confused.

“That was sarcasm, Elnor. I worked very hard on my sense of humor, you know.”

“I have heard of sarcasm. Picard called it the lowest form of humor once.” Hugh laughed, partly from the unintended insult, and partly because Elnor had just pulled back the covers for him.

“Are you going to tuck me in?” It was something he’d only read about in books, parents kissing their children goodnight, pulling the covers tight around them.

“Yes?” Elnor looked back and forth from him to the couch, and Hugh realized no one had probably ever tucked Elnor in either.

“Thanks,” he said, without a hint of irony, sliding gratefully under the covers. The couch was soft and warm, and when Elnor pulled the covers over him he almost dropped off then and there until he realized Elnor had settled on the floor, cross legged with his back propped against the cushions. “Are you sleeping like that?” he asked, pushing himself half upright. There had to be a room he could sleep in, or even the chair.

“I am not sleeping. I’m meditating.” If Hugh could see his face, he knew Elnor would have that stubborn, mulish look again.

“Oh, well, that’s alright then.” And then he fell asleep, from one breath to the next.

He slept for a long, long time, waking occasionally to the muffled sounds of voices over him, a hand to his forehead. Dreams came and went, hopes, fears, nightmares. Nothing woke him until a hand shook his shoulder, a familiar, deep lilt dragging him to awareness.

“Hugh, Hugh.” Picard’s face loomed large in front of him, and Hugh flinched back from the sudden proximity and the searing light. It must be afternoon, the sun streaming in through the front windows. It was a wonder he’d slept through it. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t wake you, but my ship is here.”

“Oh,” he said, the full implications not yet dawning. “I’m glad they made it away.”

“As am I. And, as much as I’ve enjoyed catching up with Will and Deanna, every second I’m here is putting them in danger.” Hugh nodded, rubbing the sleep from his organic eye. “Every second you’re here is putting them in danger.” That woke him up, reminding him what had happened the previous day, how things had fallen apart.

“You’re right,” except he really had nowhere else to go. Anyone he went to might become collateral damage. He had contacts in the Rangers, Seven might be willing to hide him, if he asked, but the idea of running and hiding after what they’d done. It galled.

“Do you have someplace you can go?” Picard was asking, echoing his thoughts. Hugh shook his head. “Do you think the Fenris Rangers would be willing to protect you?” Hugh looked up in surprise. What would Picard know about them?

“I don’t want to hide. I want to do something. I want justice.”

“Justice, or revenge?” Picard’s words were gentle, but Hugh still flinched from their implications. He had wanted revenge, had been willing to kill, or cast out, the Romulans to get it. But that had been directly after watching the xBs slaughtered like cattle. Did he want the same now? 

He’d always wanted the xBs away from the Romulans, never trusted them to fully honor the treaty agreement, but he’d thought they’d come to an accord, that they cared at least about their own Nameless. Now he’d probably been branded a traitor by the Tal Shiar agent, he realized, just another crazy xB going rogue.

“I don’t know,” he said, finding he couldn’t lie, not to Picard, not about this.

“I understand. I truly do, but I would feel better if you were safe, away from this… conflict.”

“Why are you here?” he didn’t mean for the question to sound accusing, but he realized his tone had been too blunt when he saw Picard’s expression close. “I mean, why you and not Starfleet? If the Tal Shiar was operating on Earth-”

“They didn’t believe me. The surveillance cameras were wiped, her apartment scrubbed. And I’m afraid I don’t seem to have the influence I did.” That’s right, because Picard had left, ahd probably been gone from Starfleet long enough to be forgotten except for his impact in the history books. 

Hugh had been so happy when he’d realized the identity of the diplomatic envoy, hopeful that someone in the Federation remembered the project’s existence. But no, of course not. Picard was just as alone and desperate as he was, too busy with his own quixotic quest to help with Hugh’s.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked, throwing the covers off to sit up.

“Protect Soji, find out why she was created, why she was on the Artifact in the first place. The Romulans, the Tal Shiar are very sure she and her sister will bring destruction on us all.”

“Yes. She said I’d caused the deaths of trillions by helping you.”

“I don’t believe that’s true, Hugh.”

“But you don’t know?” Hugh felt sick. He knew giving up Picard and Soji had never been an option for him, but the consequences had been so drastic already.

“Even if it is, there must be a better solution than murdering innocents, Hugh. I refuse to believe the only option is to sacrifice Soji, or any other synthetic in existence.” There was the old fire, the Picard who had given his mortal enemy a chance, a choice. The first person who had given Hugh a choice. 

He let out a breath, the sick feeling subsiding. There was something about Picard that was reassuring, maybe his stubborn resolve or even that arrogant assumption that the universe would be better if he clung to his ideals hard enough.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, finding the sentiment genuine.

“You don’t have to decide right now, Hugh, but we do need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” he nodded, getting to his feet, the dizziness of before almost completely gone. The one good thing the Borg had left him with was a faster recovery rate than most organics. He noticed for the first time, as Picard rose as well, that there were two bags packed at his feet. 

“Will and Deanna were kind enough to replicate you some supplies - clothes, toiletries,” Picard explained, handing Hugh one of the bags. He gratefully slung the pack over his shoulder. He hadn’t even thought about needing supplies, all of his personal belongings left behind in his quarters. 

He bent to put on his shoes, pausing through another head rush, bracing himself against the couch. He felt the bag leave his shoulder and grabbed for it, thinking it was falling, ending up in an impromptu tug of war with Elnor. He hadn’t even realized the Romulan was at his side.

“I can carry my own bag,” he protested when Elnor inevitably won the contest. 

“You’re still dizzy,” he pointed out, putting the bag’s strap over his head, making sure it wouldn’t impede access to his blade. Hugh looked to Picard for help, but the trator gave him a knowing smirk, handing the second pack over to Elnor.

“Are we leaving?” A quiet voice, Soji standing in the front door, Kestra practically vibrating behind her.

“Yes, Soji,” said Picard.

“Hugh’s coming too?” she clarified, eyes darting to him.

“For now,” Hugh reassured, hoping his presence wouldn’t be too much of a burden for her. He knew she didn’t trust him, not after what had happened with Narek.

“Bye, Hugh,” said Kestra, breaking the sudden tension. “It was nice meeting you.” She made a complicated gesture with her fingers and said something in that language he’d never heard before. “It’s like… a blessing,” she clarified when he tilted his head in confusion.

“Thank you,” he said, truly touched. Troi and Riker appeared behind her, Riker giving his daughter a one armed hug before moving to give Hugh a handshake.

“I wish we could do more, but -” he glanced behind him at his family, true regret in his voice.

“I know,” said Hugh, sincerely understanding. Riker’s days of protecting the whole galaxy were over - or perhaps his galaxy had just narrowed down to two. Either way, Hugh couldn’t blame him. His universe had been the xBs for so long now, the larger conflicts in the galaxy paling in comparison. 

Riker gave him a nod, stepping aside for Troi to take his place, going to Picard’s side for a whispered conversation.

Troi gave him a hug. It was both a shock and completely welcome, Hugh hugging her back tighter than he probably should, burying his face in her shoulder.

“You’re going to be alright, Hugh,” she murmured, almost too low for him to hear. She said it with such confidence, he almost believed her. She released him, giving him one last warm smile before retreating. Picard and the Troi-Riker’s exchanged final goodbye hugs as well, and Hugh got the impression they had exchanged longer farewells before he’d been woken. At last they were arrayed together in the center of the living room. Picard raised his communicator, hailing the ship which must be in orbit above.

“La Sirena, four to beam up.” The response came as a garbled and unprofessional, “About time. Ready when you are, Picard.” Picard sighed, Riker grinning at his exasperation.

“Tight ship,” he smirked. Picard glared, mock offended.

“Energize,” he snapped, and the Riker-Troi’s dissolved into laughter as the cozy house disappeared from view.


End file.
